


Home Maintenance: A Maria Hill Guide

by sabinelagrande



Series: Page-Turners [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - BDSM, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom Nick Fury, Dom/sub, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Human Furniture, Injury, Maledom, Marking, Objectification, Sub Maria Hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Appendix C: Caring for Furniture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nobody reads the newspaper anymore, nobody including, maybe _especially_ , Nick Fury, and yet he's sitting there, reading the Wall Street Journal or some shit. He's got his feet kicked up on his ottoman, which happens to be her right at the moment, and she just really, really hopes he doesn't intend to do the crossword puzzle.

Maria's on her hands and knees, unbound, totally naked and mostly covered with goosebumps. This position seems really easy until you actually do it, until you've got nothing but hard floor underneath your knees and elbows, until it's been half an hour, until it's been forty-five minutes.

"Fuck," she says under her breath; she bites her lip, hoping he hasn't heard.

He shuts his newspaper, and she realizes she's out of luck. "Excuse me?" he says, digging in with his heel, and she hisses. "Footstools don't talk."

"Yes, sir," she says tightly.

He settles back in his chair, straightening his paper. "You better be damn glad I'm not wearing my boots."

"Yes, sir."

"Now shut up," he orders. "If you're good, I might let you suck my cock."

Maria knows better than to respond again. 'Shut up' means 'shut up', not 'affirm that you are going to shut up and then shut up'; she has learned this lesson the hard way. Thankfully, she's a fast learner, because there's a whole lot of that around here. Maybe the whole thing is atavistic, maybe he's harsh, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She's lost a lot of tops because they bored the shit out of her, because they spoon-fed her, insulted her intelligence or ignored her insolence. So far, Fury has done exactly none of these things, or else she wouldn't be here. He's demonstrated that he's worthy of her compliance, so now he has it.

Right this second, she kind of wishes he didn't.

She holds as still as she can for as long as she can, but she's starting to lose it. She's freezing, her arms are starting to shake, and between the position and the weight on it, her back is killing her. Just when she thinks she's going to lose it, he takes his feet off her, and she sighs in relief. "Up," he says, and she sits back on her heels, infinitely grateful not to have to hold position anymore. "Face me," he says, and she turns. He puts a finger underneath her chin, looking in her eyes, and she doesn't look away. "Good girl. Now take me out and suck me."

She leans forward and undoes his zipper with her teeth, a trick she learned for the sole purpose of fucking with people; Fury cuffs her on the back of the head, but it's worth it for the entertainment value. He's only half-hard, but his cock fills in her mouth, lengthening as she runs her tongue along the underside, lapping at the tip. 

He doesn't put his hands on her head, which means she's doing it right, just like she's been trained to. Fury already knows what she's tired of explaining: training doesn't mean learning to please somebody. Training means making yourself better- at anything, it doesn't matter, it could be sucking dick or aiming a rocket launcher- by pushing yourself harder, and Fury's there to make sure she pushes herself just as hard as she possibly can, and then push her harder.

She kneels up, getting into the right spot to take him down as far as she can. She can't get him all the way in yet, can't quite keep from choking, but she's going to do it somehow. For now she sucks greedily, hungry for it, wanting more than anything that moment when he loses it, the bone-deep satisfaction of giving him exactly what he wants, exactly how he wants it.

He's close, bucking his hips up towards her mouth, and she lets him, holding still the best she can so he can fuck her face. He doesn't touch her until he's right there, grabbing her head and shoving in hard, coming into her mouth. She wants to cough, but she suppresses the urge, at least until she's swallowed. He puts his hand on her neck, warm and firm, a comfort, and she relaxes, feeling sore and used and so pleased with herself.

"In my lap," he says, as tucks himself away and zips up. Her muscles burn like fire when she tries to stand, and he has to help her up and into the chair. It feels a little strange, all his clothes against her naked skin; it makes her feel small, taken over, but it's a good feeling. She feels safe like this, even more so than she knows she always is in his hands.

He runs his hands over her skin, caressing her gently, cupping her breasts, toying with her nipples. She relaxes against him; this doesn't necessarily mean she's been good, because he might play with her for as long as he wants and then push her away. This also doesn't mean she's been bad, and either way she's happy to enjoy it as long as she has it.

He lowers his mouth to her neck; he knows precisely the spot where the high collar of her uniform meets the rest of it, and he bites her just there, so that she'll feel it every time she shifts. He's got an impressive bite, the kind that hurts so badly and leaves such great marks. She tries not to struggle, but it's hard not to fight against that kind of pain. He locks his arm around her stomach, holding her down to bite her again on the other side, and she whimpers, loving the promise of the marks she'll have just as much as she hates the pain.

He lets her go, kissing the mark, which is already throbbing. "Spread your legs," he tells her, and she does it without hesitation. He runs his hand down her stomach and between her thighs, laying his hand over her mound and massaging her, his big hand covering her up. She's had tops who acted like it was a dirty secret when she got wet for them, like she should be ashamed of getting excited. Fury acts like it's his goddamn right to turn her on, like she should be ready to go whenever he wants. Maria vastly prefers that, the honesty of it, no bullshit getting in the way of desire.

He rubs her clit, a little on the rough side but not too much; she's a little far gone for light and gentle. Her hips move without her, pressing up against his hand, and he bites her again. She tries to keep still, but then there's his other hand, thick fingers pushing inside of her. Her back arches, her head falling against his shoulder, but he doesn't relent, fucking her just the way he wants.

She's shaking against him, almost at the point where she won't have a choice whether to come or not. "Sir," she mewls, taking the risk; in terms of punishment, talking out of turn is far less dangerous than coming without permission.

"Come for me," he says into her ear, and she lets herself go, falling over the edge. He grabs onto her arm with one hand, which is good, because she thinks she might be on the verge of falling out of the chair. She rides it on and on, the aftershocks rolling through her as he brings her down, moving his fingers slowly in and out until she shakes her head, too sensitive to go on.

He lets her have a moment, stroking her thighs as she calms. "Stand up," he orders, and it's very hard to do it, too many sore, shaky muscles; luckily, she's only on her feet for a second, because almost as soon as she's standing, he stands and sweeps her up into his arms. "You need some ibuprofen," he says, "and I need to fuck you."

"Sir, yes, sir," she murmurs, and he just snorts in amusement, carrying her away.


	2. Chapter 2

The op is wrapping up, bodies- enemy bodies, thankfully- being put into bags, perimeter being tightened, and Fury stands in the middle of it all, surveying the scene. This is a dangerous time, he knows, where people are off-guard and losing adrenaline; he rests his hand on his holster, as productively distrustful as ever. Beside him, Maria is standing with her arms crossed, saying nothing. He can see plainly that she's about to start yelling at Marquez and Anders for dicking around, and he contemplates cutting her off at the pass. The two of them really need the fear of God put into them, and while Maria is good at that, Fury takes a great deal of personal pleasure in it.

Out of nowhere, something cracks the floor next to Fury's foot, which is never a good sign. "Sniper!" Maria shouts, and Fury might be a badass, but he's not a fucking idiot; when she shoves him out of the way, he goes, ducking behind cover. Maria draws her side arm and aims for the sniper, firing over and over at its position. A few shots, and the sniper tumbles to the ground.

So does Maria.

"I need medical!" Fury shouts, dropping to his knees beside her. She's groaning in pain, blood seeping through her uniform, and would that Fury never had to see that again.

"I'm okay," she says haltingly.

"You will be okay," he says. "Don't move and don't pass out on me, do you hear me?"

"Working on it, sir," she tells him, but she passes out anyway.

\--

A pregnant kind of quiet surrounds him as he walks down the corridor to medical. There's been whispering about how this whole event makes him a bad dom, that he can't even protect his sub when she's right next to him; then again, ninety percent of the people whispering have been whispering that he's a bad dom forever. That's just what he gets for collaring somebody like Maria, someone strong and quiet and willful, someone who takes no shit at all.

As he walks, the helicarrier is quiet as a churchyard, conversation stopping when the bubble of silence that surrounds him passes through. Phil is already in medical when Nick gets there, and Phil gives him a nod of understanding; to be perfectly honest, Phil's opinion outweighs just about everyone else's, and something unacknowledged within him eases.

Maria is lying in bed looking pale and worn out, but she's alive, and that's what passes for a victory at SHIELD. It was a clean shot, right through her shoulder; she'll be out for a while, but he won't be able to stop her from going right back to work just as soon as medical releases her- not that he would ever want to.

He pulls the chair over, sitting down next to her bed. "Taking bullets for me is not part of your job description, Agent Hill," he tells her, though his voice is soft. "Your job is to complete your mission objectives in a timely fashion."

"I disagree, sir," she says, hoarse but unwavering. "My mission objectives were complete. My primary duty as a SHIELD agent is to protect the secrecy and assure the continuity of the organization. In absence of other directives, taking bullets for you is absolutely part of my job description."

He picks up the water glass by the bed, giving her a few sips through the straw. "The continuity of the organization depends on its agents not trying to get themselves killed."

"With respect, sir, it was me or you," she says. "I made a judgment call based on what I thought was more important for the organization. I apologize."

He lifts his eyebrow at her. "You apologize for saving my life?"

She shakes her head carefully. "I apologize for not being sorry about it."

"You put a leash on guard dog, you get what you deserve," he says, putting his hand on the wrist of her undamaged arm. "Taking bullets is also not in your job description as my submissive." He tightens his fingers. "But if saving my life gives you a sense of fulfillment, that's something I'm willing to allow."

She smiles, moving her wrist slightly in his grip. "I'll try to do it with as little injury as possible, sir."

"See that you do," he says. "I need you in top shape. Fuck this getting shot bullshit."

There's a polite cough at the door, and Nick looks up. "Time's up," the nurse says, and Nick doesn't argue; Nick only selects nurses who won't take his shit, and he doesn't feel like fighting, not when it'll probably just give Maria a headache.

He stands, looking down at her. "Hey," he says sharply. "Next time I tell you not to pass out on me, you don't pass out. I thought you were trying _not_ to put me in an early grave."

"Will do, sir," she says. He gives her a hard look, but it fades into a smile.


End file.
